


Aces Up Every Sleeve

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Heart Like an Anchor [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: The thing with Michael is this ongoing...Thing in Jeremy’s life.





	Aces Up Every Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to Coming in Like Lightning from Jeremy's POV based on a [comment thread.](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/194166019) with Miss-ingno that got away from me. /o\

The thing with Michael is this ongoing...Thing in Jeremy’s life. 

It’s been years since they met and he still doesn’t know what they’re doing aside from running into each other in the same dive bars and acting like it a weird coincidence. 

It’s ridiculous, and confusing as hell, which is why he calls Ryan for advice because he’s terrifyingly smart when he’s not being an idiot.

“Jeremy,” Ryan’s saying, voice muffled and distorted because he has Jeremy on speaker as he moves around his apartment gearing up for a job. Metallic clinks and clunks and one alarming _thunk_ that may or may not be that new grenade launcher he just bought. “Why don’t you just tell the guy? How’s that for an idea?”

Ryan doesn’t know the details, specifics, when it comes to Michael because along with being terrifyingly smart, Ryan’s also just kind of terrifying in general.

Jeremy’s been careful to be vague and unhelpful when he talks to Ryan about his Michael Problem. Knows it would be easy for him to piece together Michael’s identity and track him down to have a little chat about things.

“Ryan, _no_ ,” Jeremy says, because that is not a thing that’s going to happen.

Michael’s a great drinking buddy and the few times they’ve worked together he’s been a solid teammate. Jeremy doesn’t want to ruin things between them because he’s got some stupid schoolboy crush on the guy.

There’s an odd silence on Ryan’s end, and at first Jeremy has no idea what’s caused it when he hears Ryan take him off speaker. 

This _pause_ , and Ryan’s “gentle” voice, like that time Jeremy took a few rounds to the gut and they thought he’d bleed out in a fucking jungle miles from home.

“Jeremy,” Ryan says, and Jeremy closes his eyes. Waits for some trite platitude that should be stenciled on a piece of wood salvaged from a barn or whatever is trending these days. Maybe fancy calligraphy in gold ink in a tasteful frame positioned where it will be noticed all the goddamned time for _inspiration._ “You’re kind of an idiot.”

Jeremy cracks open an eye, because that wasn’t quite was he was expecting.

“I mean,” Ryan says, and the asshole chuckles. “I thought I was bad, but you- “

“ _Hey_ ,” Jeremy cuts in, this overwhelming gratitude for Ryan being the asshole he is hitting him hard. “Fuck you. I’d like to see you do better in my position, asshole.”

Ryan chuckles again, like he’s forgotten he’s worse at this kind of thing than Jeremy, and that’s saying something.

“Not going to happen, Jeremy. I’m not that bad.” Ryan says, like a goddamned _liar_.

“Ryan,” Jeremy says, hand over his face and so exhausted. “Do you not remember how we met in the first place?”

An awkward first meeting in a bar with terrible pickup lines and both of them laughing about how pathetic they both were. 

That even more awkward moment a few days later at HQ when they realized they would be partnered together, and go easy on the kid, Haywood, he’s new to the agency. 

Years of the two of them being clueless about the fact they were flirting (badly) with one another. 

The “will they get their shit together to put everyone around them out of their misery or won’t they?” bullshit a terrible television show would pull to drag a series out long after it should have ended, because they’re just that hopeless. 

At some point they settled into a deep, unbreakable friendship stronger than anything the world threw at them.

And _then_ they realized how stupid they are. (Hearty chuckles all around and this solemn vow never to tell anyone because talk about embarrassing.)

Kind of painful to look back on, because yeah, wow, they’re _real_ fucking dumb. The worst part is that they haven’t learned a damn thing since then.

“Touché,” Ryan says, as though he forgot just how dumb they are, and Jeremy starts laughing.

========

Jeremy didn’t quite wash up on Los Santos' polluted shores as he drifted in like a piece of...driftwood. (Seaweed? Scuzzy sea foam? _Something_.)

Point is, he showed up in Los Santos two years after the shitball mission that put an end to the Battle Buddies because that’s where people like him end up when the dust settles.

Down on life and not feeling charitable to the establishment after it fucked him and one of the best goddamned friends he’d ever had over, and hey. 

Someone’s always willing to pay a guy like him to shoot a guy, so that was that - 

Or should have been, if he hadn’t run into Ryan again. 

Found him putting that theater background of his to work with the whole Vagabond...business.

Panicking when they ended up working together in the early days. (Because really. What were the odds they’d meet like that after Ryan went to so much trouble to fake his death leaving Jeremy in the dark for his own protection?) 

Ryan shying away from Jeremy every time he tried to strike up a conversation him when they got hired on for the same jobs because he knew Jeremy would figure it out before long.

Acted cool and aloof, no time for the new guy and if Jeremy thought the Vagabond was an arrogant prick all the better. Like Jeremy wouldn’t recognize the same damn mannerisms and quirks Jeremy knew like breathing. Little mistakes no one else seemed to catch, too in awe of the man and his reputation to notice. 

The way he’d slip and leave his back wide open sometimes like he still forgot there wasn’t someone there to watch his back when he pulled one of his stupid stunts. Told Jeremy and whatever other dipshits to take off, he’d hold the cops or gang members or whoever else off long enough for them to escape. Like he thought Jeremy would let him get away with it even before he realized Ryan was the Vagabond. (Jeremy’s good running solo, but he does so much better with a team, a partner.)

So, yeah.

That was another thing that happened. Discovering that Ryan hadn’t died, was in sunny Los Santos living his best life (if that’s what he wanted to call it) being a fucking idiot. 

Thinking Jeremy wouldn’t realize. Wouldn’t _care_.

Thinking Jeremy had gone through the mandatory mourning period for him like it was just that simple. (Tick off a box and get cleared by the shrinks so they’d let him back in the field, and no lasting trauma from losing his best friend.) 

Thinking Jeremy hadn’t missed the idiot after he “died”. Didn’t have nights where he couldn’t sleep reliving that final mission over again and wondering what he could have done to change things so Ryan lived. What he did to fuck up so badly it got Ryan killed, but whatever. Ryan’s always been an idiot like that.

And even when Jeremy knew Ryan was the idiot in the face paint and mask, it took time for Ryan to realize Jeremy wasn’t about to give him up again without a fucking fight. Wouldn’t let him run off and start a new life somewhere else again without so much as a goodbye. (Took even longer before Ryan stopped looking sideways at Jeremy. Like he thought the two of them getting this second chance was a trick the universe was playing on him.)

Not...great times, but they did what they always did and pushed through. Sheer bullheaded stubbornness and a refusal to roll over and die.

Never the same people they were back then, the days where they thought nothing could bring them down as long as they were together. Invincible Battle Buddies who survived the worst the bad guys could throw at them and too stupid to see the fuckers with the knife about to stab them in the back.

Jeremy lets Ryan have his paranoia, and Ryan lets Jeremy have everything else. (Smile on his face and this fallback plan that’s more or less salt the earth if someone fucks with them, wreck their shit, and this is what happens to people who fuck with his family.)

An unexpected bonus to all of this is hearing the way people talk about the big bad Vagabond like he’s this terrifying urban legend. The thing that goes bump in the night and took you away if you were bad.

All-seeing and all-knowing and about a billion times cooler than Ryan will ever be and they both know it.

It’s always hilarious watching Ryan stride into a room in full Vagabond getup and seeing the way people react to him. Assholes who have no idea what a handful Ryan is when he gets frustrated with something. The way everyone seems to think he’s death personified when Ryan has strong opinions over fucking _pie_.

Jesus.

But then there are times when things go to shit and Jeremy will look over and see Ryan. Cool and competent and watching Jeremy’s back the way he always had. Grin in his voice because he’s always had best/worst ideas, and deadly as hell when he’s properly motivated. 

New and improved Battle Buddies, and it’s a hell of a thing to see in action. (Jeremy would know. Matt likes to send him the footage he pulls from surveillance cameras and newsroom servers, sticky fingers all over the place like it’s the easiest thing in the world.)

========

Jeremy will never forget Ryan’s little shrug when Jeremy put the pieces together and let Ryan knew he knew.

Jeremy feeling angry, hurt, that Ryan lied to protect him but he got it, understood where he was coming from. The odds against them and this one desperate gamble to protect Jeremy, never expecting to see him again and if he did, that Jeremy would hate him for it, and doing it anyway. (So fucking relieved Ryan was _alive_. That Jeremy hadn’t gotten him killed.)

The lopsided smile and tentative fist bump he offered, like he thought Jeremy would leave him hanging after all the shit they’d been through.

“Bring it in, idiot,” he’d said, blood in his mouth and busted ribs, but fuck it because they’d made it, hadn’t they? 

Survived the assholes who tried to take them down all those years ago, and then he’d yanked Ryan into a hug because they’d fucking earned it. 

========

Jeremy and Michael have been doing this dance of theirs for years now. Long before Ryan came back into Jeremy’s life and it’s - 

Ridiculous, is one way to put it. Pathetic would be another.

The whole one step forward, two steps back thing they have going on because they’re idiots. (Recurring theme in Jeremy’s life.)

Went from being friendly rivals to teammates to whatever the hell they are now. Seeking each other's company after a long day or one close call too many. Competitive fucks who bicker like an old married couple over a game of darts or another arm wrestling match. 

Michael coming off gruff and surly like an old junkyard dog, sure, but this gleam in his eyes that belied the bite to his bark.

Jeremy the idiot in the Rimmy Tim getup because he loved seeing people’s reactions to it. Bland expression on his face and a raised eyebrow daring them to comment on it like there weren’t more outrageous figures running around the city.

Stupid, terrible flirting that would have gotten them punched in the face if it was anyone else. With Michael, though, it just caused him to giggle helplessly or make Jeremy wheeze with laughter as they tried to outdo one another. 

So, yeah.

Human disasters and heartbreak in the making, but damned if Jeremy could walk away from it any easier than he could turn his back on Ryan.

========

Matt’s always good for news, all his computer and tech wizardry and oddly soothing apathy. (Well, not apathy so much as Matt very much being Matt, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the two apart.)

He’s the one who gives Jeremy and Ryan the heads up about the Roosters coming to Los Santos with intent this time around. None of this quiet poking and prodding their support team’s been doing, but one of the Founders and his right-hand man.

“They’ve got Brownman,” Matt says, headphones around his neck as he digs into the food Jeremy brought him because otherwise he’d most likely starve to death. “And they’re looking for a demolitions guy.”

Matt gives him a _look_ , because he thinks the thing between Jeremy and Michael is high entertainment. 

“Well, shit.”

The Roosters don’t do things by halves, and the city’s been restless, antsy, since Ramsey and Patillo came to town. Everyone eyeing each other up trying to determine who’s siding with the Roosters and who isn’t. 

“Shit.”

Matt hums, slipping his headphones back on to give Jeremy a semblance of privacy as he calmly freaks the fuck out.

========

Ryan’s on one of his murder breaks so Jeremy doesn’t see him as often as he normally does, but he’s up to something.

“He’s up to something, Matt,” he says, and Matt rolls his eyes at him because there is rarely a time Ryan _isn’t_ up to something.

“It’s Ryan,” Matt points out. “That’s like. His whole reason for being.”

Not untrue, but yeah.

========

Ryan’s up to something and whenever Jeremy asks about it, he gets this little laugh and an all too familiar, _”Don’t worry about it.”_ from him. 

Which means contrary to belief Ryan either has everything under control or the city’s going to end up on fire by the end. (Most likely both, though, because Ryan.)

Jeremy drinks to the memory of Los Santos before it burns to the ground around him thanks to Ryan when he spots a familiar figure sitting at the bar. Slump to his shoulders like it’s been another long day. (There are a lot of those in this city.)

“Hey,” Jeremy says, taking a seat next to him. 

Michael glances over, and it’s clear he’s had a few drinks already because the smile he gives Jeremy is this wide, delighted thing that’s a little goofy around the edges.

“Jeremy!” he yells, throwing his hands up, like he’s just been waiting for Jeremy to show up. “Am I glad to see you!”

Jeremy laughs, and listens to Michael spill this story about the crew he’s working for in between drinks, things getting...fuzzy. That weird place between tipsy and shitfaced he’s been way too many times before to count.

Jeremy’s used to Michael being a tactile kind of guy when he gets like this. 

Face squishes and arm over his shoulder dragging him in close. Careful not to stumble over his words, get them mixed up too much, but then he’ll get exited about something and off he goes. Less of a disaster than Jeremy when he’s drunk, but only just.

Michael leans in, ignores the whole personal space bubble ting people have and there’s a hand around his bicep to give it an appraising squeeze, this this sly smirk on his face and ridiculous eyebrow waggle – and okay, yeah.

Jeremy’s kind of gone for the guy because he flexes, heat high in his cheeks when Michael laughs again.

Starts to say something, but that’s around the time some asshole bumps into him and doesn’t apologize, no.

Of course he doesn’t.

What he does is sneer down at Michael, lip curling as he glances at Jeremy. Takes in how close he and Michael are and his expression goes ugly, mean.

“What are you and your little boyfriend going to do about it?“

Michael blinks up at him, angry scowl smoothing out into this blank expression. Like his brain’s rebooting, nothing going on upstairs, please wait.

And then he smiles, this slow crawl over his face. Haha, funny joke, buddy. Loved it.

Has the asshole giving him this confused look, unsettled at his reaction.

Jeremy sighs, and throws back the last of his drink because he knows what’s coming. 

Michael’s a brawler, not much finesse to his fighting style. 

Goes from zero to trying to rip the guy’s bones out and beat him to death with them in the blink of an eye. 

Just lunges into action, wild grin on his face and fists slamming into the asshole’s jaw this _laugh_ that always gets to Jeremy.

Jeremy fumbles for his wallet and tosses down what he’s got on him to help cover the damages. Knows Michael will come up with the rest later because they like this place, would hate to be banned from it for life.

“Sorry about this,” he tells the tired looking bartender who comes over too late to stop the fight - “You know how he gets.”

And then he’s wading into the fight because the asshole has friends, and Jeremy’s not about to let Michael go it alone.

========

It’s not a pretty fight, bunch of drunk idiots doing their best to beat the shit out of each other, but Michael and Jeremy have been through this song and dance enough they come out on top.

Michael laughing wild and free as Jeremy drags him away before the cops someone called arrest them for drunken disorderly and discover they’re wanted for other crimes.

They end up in an alley a few streets over, beat to hell and a little bloodies, adrenaline singing through them and Michael bright and shining the way he gets after a fight. (Hard to look away from, and Jeremy’s fucked over him, is willing to admit it to himself.)

Jeremy watches Michael call a rideshare for them, careful enunciation and still drunk as hell. Turns to tell Jeremy their ride is on their way once he hangs up, and overbalances.

Trips over his feet and Jeremy catches him, grins down at Michael who blinks at him like he has no fucking clue how they even got here.

“Smooth,” Jeremy laughs, does his best to keep Michael from falling on his face.

Michael _growls_. Frustration or something else, and Jeremy’s back is against rough brick wall and Michael is _right there_. Spark of something in his eyes as he meets Jeremy’s, hands coming up to cup his face and Jeremy - 

“Been meaning to do this for a while,” Michael mumbles, and then he’s kissing Jeremy, which _nice_ , but also - 

They’ve done this before, the two of them. Drunken fumbling in one alley like this before they head back to either of their places because it seems like the best idea in the world. 

\- and then one or both of them end up falling asleep before they make it past the heavy petting stage of things and it turns into a bizarre sleepover and mature idiots who don’t talk about it in the morning.

Because morons.

Michael's phone _dings_ , and he pulls back to frown down at it.

“Ride’s here,” he says, pushing away from him and for a moment Jeremy thinks that’s it. Just another Thing that happened, but Michael stops to look back at Jeremy.

Pins him in place with this heated look and darts in for another quick kiss and a breathless _”I’m notgoingtoforgetthistime,”_ before he’s dragging Jeremy out of the alley where a car’s waiting.

Michael gives the driver an address Jeremy’s never heard of before, and when they get there he just stares up at a very nice apartment building.

Fancier than anything either of them can afford, unless Michael’s been pulling jobs he hasn’t mentioned to Jeremy.

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael says with this grin, as if Jeremy’s not hardwired to respond with a fight or flight instinct just hearing that phrase after knowing Ryan for so long.

“Oh, God,” Jeremy says, while Michael cackles as he buzzes the shit out of some poor bastard. 

“C’mon, c’mon, fuckin’ let us up, you dick,” Michael mutters, and misses when the intercom flicks on.

“Someone better be dead,” someone says, sounding sleepy and annoyed and Jeremy clears his throat because Michael looks like he’s gearing up for one of his legendary rants - 

“Let us in, you fuck,” Michael says, and there’s this long pause before an even longer sigh and whoever the guy is buzzes them in.

Michael snorts, and drags Jeremy through a shiny apartment building lobby into the elevator. His eyes drop to Jeremy’s mouth and makes this slow, meandering journey back to his eyes, corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

“Hey,” he says, and lets Jeremy’s arm go to tangle their fingers together instead. “Don’t run.”

“What?”

Michael holds up their clasped hands and waggles them in Jeremy’s face like it’s supposed to mean something.

“Don’t run. Fucker’s old, but he can still smell fear.”

Jeremy stares at him because none of this makes sense, and he’s starting to wonder why the hell he just let Michael drag him out here. (Alcohol, a shit-ton of it, and Jeremy being an idiot.)

“That is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Michael grins at him, sharkish, and then he’s dragging Jeremy into the lion’s den.

========

So, they’ve just woken up Geoff Ramsey - _The_ Geoff Ramsey -nup in the middle of the night for Michael to babble something about muscles and Jeremy and a job offer?

Also, what the hell is up with the décor?

“Michael,” Ramsey says, sounding very tired, and very fond. “What the fuck.”

Michael grabs Jeremy by the arm and points at his biceps.

“Muscles, Geoff! Muscles!”

Jeremy stops studying the random bits of horrible décor choices around the room – cannot fathom what’s going on with the wall clock – and meets Ramsey’s eyes.

Smiles, because friendly, and Ramsey sighs.

Claps Michael on the shoulder.

“Why don’t we talk about this in the morning, okay buddy?” 

Michael tries to protest, but Ramsey gently bulldozes right over him, hand on his shoulder to lead him down the hall to what seem to be spare bedrooms. Gives him a little shove into the room and starts to show Jeremy the other one, when Michael’s hand snaps out and latches onto Jeremy’s wrist. 

“We’re good,” he says, some teeth to it when Ramsey’s eyebrows go up. “Really. Now fuck off.”

Ramsey shoots Jeremy a little look to see if he agrees with Michael's assessment on the matter, but Michael's making these small sweeps with his thumb over Jeremy’s pulse point and it’s distracting.

Really, really distracting and Jeremy’s weak for Michael, what he’ll allow Jeremy.

As confusing as his night’s gotten, it brings back that moment in the alley too damn fast, and Jeremy’s only human and he’s been gone over Michael for a long, long

“What he said,” Jeremy says, bright grin on his face and a thumbs up as he lets Michael lets Michael pull him into the room. 

========

It’s a repeat of the alley but with a twist to keep things fresh.

Jeremy’s back against the door and Michael in front of him and all these bad decisions about to be made. (Not to brag, but Jeremy’s a pro at those. Ask anyone.)

Michael’s hands hovering over his hips like he’s not sure he’s allowed, frown between his eyes. 

“Michael?”

“You can say no,” he says. Close as he is, he still isn’t touching Jeremy. Careful about that, the way he is with the important shit. “To this. You can say no and things will go back to the way they were and it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

For a moment Jeremy isn’t sure what he’d be saying no to, but then Michael gets this look on his face. The _fuck it, I’m fucked anyway_ one Jeremy's used to seeing before Michael pulls the two of them into a bar brawl or something else that ends with them running from the cops, and then he is most definitely touching Jeremy.

Because kissing.

And his hands slip under the hem of Jeremy’s shirt hot against his skin, rough callouses from the kind of life that’s done its best to grind him under its heel, and just made him even more dangerous for it instead, and Jeremy is _fucked_.

Michael breaks off, breathless and watching Jeremy carefully like he’s expecting him to respond negatively.

Push him away, smack him down for unwanted advances or something, Jeremy doesn't know.

What he does know is they’ve been dancing around one another for a long, long time. Remembers Michael’s blurted declaration in the alley, the way he’s watching him now. 

“Okay,” Jeremy says, and pulls Michael in for another kiss before he can misunderstand because Jeremy’s a pro at bad decisions, sure, but this doesn’t feel like one.

========

Jeremy wakes up first, head aching and very, very naked, which is cause for this completely reasonable moment of panic. 

...and then a second one when Michael snuffles in his sleep and rolls over, curling an arm around Jeremy’s as he does, because reasons.

He stares up at the ceiling for a long, long time and doesn’t know whether or not to be thankful that he can remember everything that happened the night before. (Well, that's a lie because he knows the answer, he just. Doesn’t know what Michael’s will be.)

It’s a little bit of cowardice on his part that has him slipping out from Michael’s arm and out of bed to get dressed. Sticking his head into the hallway before scurrying to the bathroom to clean up and then- 

He has no idea what to do next. 

Doesn’t want to face Michael just yet, and doesn’t want to just leave, so he investigates his surroundings.

Still fancy as hell, though. 

Minimalist décor with a few incomprehensible pieces of artwork that Jeremy is absolutely not judging, no. (It’s the hangover, really. Killer headache and all that.)

He dithers for a bit before deciding to make breakfast to look like a good guest.

Regret comes knocking when he pulls the bacon out of its packaging and the first twinge of nausea hits, but it doesn’t get going until it’s sizzling in the pan, but by then it's too late to back down.

He glances up when Ramsey walks in, self-conscious as he adjusts his shirt and has this moment of _fuck, fuck, what the fuck_ because he wasn’t paying attention and that’s Michael's shirt he’s wearing, what the fuck.

“Good morning,” Ramsey greets, voice pitched low.

Jeremy looks up at him, and it’s like the combination of the damn headache, nausea he’s been pushing off for too long and morning after panic because _Michael_ , and he rushes for the closest bathroom to puke his guts up, because that’s sure to make a good impression.

He gets himself cleaned up enough to pass at being presentable and heads back out and discovers he’s been booted from cooking duty because Ramsey points at a char at the kitchen bar.

Jeremy stands there like an idiot – smooth, Dooley, real fuckin’ smooth – and takes a seat. Doesn’t fidget like a dumb kid because he’d like not to be a complete disaster for once, okay.

“Uh,” he says. “So that could have gone better, I guess.”

Ramsey gives him this look, wry, amused, and Jeremy can feel himself blushing like an idiot. 

_Christ_.

“Nah,” Ramsey says, the same way other people say _yes, and it’s fucking hilarious_. “You’re doing great.”

Awesome.

“There’s aspirin the cabinet over there if you want any,” Ramsey says, pointing at the cabinet in question.

Jeremy hesitates. Wouldn’t want to look more of a mess than he is, but there’s this headache clamping down on his skull, totally did not drink enough water the night before, so.

He can feel Ramsey watching him as he goes to the cabinet and pulls the bottle of aspirin out. Eyes the dosage recommendation and decides he’s already living life on the edge doing what he does for a living and throws back a couple of the bastards. 

Thins about Michael who’d been drinking before Jeremy showed up and shakes out a couple for him and goes looking for a glass for water. 

“The one to your right,” Geoff Ramsey says, sounding pleased about something, but Jeremy’s busy filling the glass with water to wonder what that’s about. 

He sets the glass down on the table along with the aspirin for Michael when he wakes up, and feels like an idiot because he can’t for the life of him think of what to do now.

Ramsey’s taken over cooking duty and the whole situation is awkward as hell, and Jeremy feels painfully out of place here.

“Michael seems pretty insistent you’ve got muscles,” Ramsey says, back to Jeremy and no tell to his voice to know what he’s thinking.

Jeremy stares at Ramsey, trying to figure out what he’s angling for. Cannot for the life of him figure it out and feeling wrong-footed about the whole thing.

“...I mean yeah?” he says, and then his brain catches up. Bits and pieces of meeting Ramsey the night before coming back to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, horror dawning as he runs a hand through his hair to straighten it, because wow, what a great first impression to make. Thinks he might be sick again, because _Ramsey_. Sort of a big deal, and Jeremy’s never been more of a mess than he is now. “He was telling the truth, you really are looking for more people?”

Ramsey snorts, siding a plate of food in front of Jeremy. Hesitates before he pats Jeremy on the shoulder awkwardly.

“Relax, Li’l J,” he says. “We can have the proper job interview some other day.”

Jeremy stares at him.

“Okay,” he says, certain Ramsey’s letting him down gently, will go to Michael later and tell him it was nice to help with the recruiting process but maybe not this asshole, and runs of the room to throw up again.

Because Jeremy’s _life._

========

Somehow, Jeremy didn’t completely fuck up his opportunity to join the Fakes.

Ramsey – no, _Geoff_ \- makes it clear from the start it has nothing to do with Jeremy’s relationship with Michael, that it’s a chance. See if he fits in with the crew, works well with them and if he feels the same he’s in.

If not, it was nice to meet you and don’t be a stranger. (That last bit is to do with his relationship with Michael, which. Kind of nice.)

Geoff sends him out with Michael since they’ve worked together in the past. Has them deal with squabbles here and there. Remind people the Fakes aren’t pushovers while he and Jack work with B-Team to set up bigger jobs. Later on he brings Jeremy with him to meetings with allies, or watching Jack’s back while he sees to other matters.

And then Geoff decides they need to make a little noise, draw attention away from what B-Team’s up to and that’s when things get interesting.

They start small.

Go for convenience stores first and get more ambitious, move on to jewelry stores, banks. 

Geoff comes up with a plan for a heist and holy balls do they go big with it. Insane scheme that has Jack in a Cargobob and the most convoluted route to a hefty payday for them Jeremy’s ever seen.

Michael shrugs and tells him that’s just how the Fakes operate, the crazier the better, and drags Jeremy in for a kiss because they do that now. 

The kissing thing isn’t new, but being sober while it happens is. Seeing the crooked smile on Michael’s face when he pulls back for air is nice too, hint of color to his cheeks and this look on his face like he can’t believe Jeremy lets him, like he didn’t _know_.

And then Jeremy pulls him back in for another kiss because this is a thing they do now, and goddamn does he love it.

========

Ryan’s still on his murder break, still up to something.

Smoothly changes the subject when Jeremy tries to puzzle out what the hell he’s up to and asks after Michael when Jeremy calls him up. Regular check-in to make sure Ryan hasn’t gotten into trouble without Jeremy there to watch his back. 

...It’s just one of those things friends do and not heightened paranoia after the fuckery they’ve been through. (The very _idea_.)

God love him, but Ryan’s an asshole who knows too much about things. Jeremy fumbles his way through explaining why he'd love it if Ryan could not scare the shit out of Michael in the name of looking out for Jeremy’s oh so fragile heart

Or try to, anyway, because God knows it wouldn’t work on Michael.

“Just. Don't,” Jeremy says. Tries not to imagine the clusterfuck that would result if he did. Michael’s bullheaded stubbornness and sheer cussedness versus Ryan’s protective streak and twisted sense of humor and oh, God, please no. Los Santos would never recover. “Please. Consider it an early birthday present if you want to.”

(Ryan laughs it off like it’s a joke, but he doesn’t say he won’t, and Jeremy has the horrible feeling he’s living on borrowed time.)

========

Geoff gets taken.

========

Geoff gets taken, and they all knew something was Going On with Geoff the past few months.

Things that started long before Michael dragged Jeremy to Geoff’s penthouse in the middle of the night and everything in Jeremy’s life got weird again. 

But Geoff kept insisting everything was fine, don’t worry about it and oh, hey, we should get someone in here to fix up that collapsed duct shouldn’t we?

So.

Yeah.

Jack’s got this look to him, tight-lipped and strain around his eyes. Anger humming through him as he gets B-Team on finding out what the hell happened.

Ray goes quiet.

Quiet _er_.

Tap, tap, taps away on the handheld he keeps with him when shit gets boring. Acts like Geoff just went out for an errand, he’ll be back soon and why is everyone so worried? 

The moment he can, though, he slips out of the penthouse. Tugs up the hood on his hoodie, tucks his hands in his pockets and wandered off all casual-like as though he’s not going to hit up his not inconsiderable list of contacts and informants, reliable sources of information.

Jeremy keeps an eye on Michael when they follow up on whatever leads come their way, but eventually those dry up. Jack calls them back to the penthouse until B-Team digs up news on Geoff.

Michael pauses in his relentless pacing when Jeremy comments about it – tiger in a cage, restless energy and no outlet for it just yet – and shrugs.

“It’s Ray, he says, and shrugs again because Michael might get how he works, but like hell does anyone understand it.

Michael - 

Well, there’s the restlessness. The anger. The yelling.

Waiting on Jack to give the word, set him loose on whatever stupid fucker made the biggest mistake of their life. (Not yet, though, gotta wait for B-Team’s findings.)

And Jeremy?

He watches.

Tightness in his chest that’s this mix of all the anger and frustration, fear, the others show in their own ways and more. (Doesn’t let it show, because Jack doesn’t need that from him on top of everything else, and it would just set Michael off.)

Geoff gets taken and they all go a little crazy trying to find him.

Jeremy calls Ryan. The only problem with that is the fact Ryan’s Up To Something and Jeremy gets his voicemail. So then he calls Ryan’s _other_ number, one they set up after finding one another again in case decides it hasn’t had enough of fucking them over. 

Gets to listen to Ryan reassure him he’s not in trouble, but he is Doing Something. Leave a message and he’ll be there to back Jeremy up, no questions asked.

Jeremy leaves a message, because Geoff’s in trouble. Tells Ryan what’s going on and hey, buddy, hey friend, he could use some help if you’re in town, but it’s not an emergency. (Not yet.)

No idea when he’ll hear back from Ryan, and he decides if he’s going to bring Ryan into this, why not go all out? (Worlds he’s been very careful about keeping separate for good reasons colliding, and no way things could possibly go wrong.)

“Hey, Michael,” he says, catches Michael’s eye when his pacing brings him closer to Jeremy. “I have an idea.”

========

Matt pulls the whole supervillain shtick when they get to his little lair.

Spins around slowly in his computer chair, cat in his lap with his hands steepled in front of his face.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says with all the dramatic flair of a complete nerd. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

It’s a shitty apartment in a shitty building in a shitty neighborhood. 

Humble doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

“That’s great, Matt,” Jeremy says, shaking his head at Michael because yes, yes Mat is crazy. The best kind though. “You know why we’re here, right?”

Matt _hmms_ , and strokes his beard like a movie villain and Jeremy knows it’s going to be one of those days.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says to Michael, “we’re done here.”

Michael snorts, falling into step with Jeremy because no thank you, not today - 

“Fuckin’ - Oh I see how it is,” Matt grumbles, just loud enough to carry. “You get to run around like an eyesore with a dumb name but I do one quirky thing and it’s too much?”

There’s more in the same vein and an indignant little _mew_ from the cat – where the hell did he get a cat on such short notice? 

“Fine,” Matt huffs, irritated and a little disappointed his theatrics aren’t appreciated. “Not like you guys are the first ones to come to me about it, but fine. Sure.”

Jeremy’s about to tell Matt to quit whining when his words register.

“What?”

Matt’s still bitching, but he stops when he looks at Jeremy, hears the _what the fuck are you talking about_ tone in his voice.

“Uh,” Matt says, frowning at Jeremy. “You-know-who stopped by earlier to ask about the same thing? Said you called him.”

It’s this unspoken agreement Jeremy has with Matt. 

A holdover from the days after Jeremy found Ryan again born of paranoia and the fiercely protective streak in Jeremy has for the important people in his life.

It’s why Jeremy hasn’t mentioned Ryan to the others when he knows they wanted him for the crew. (It’s not distrust for Geoff and the others, just. Old wounds and scars that didn’t heal right, and Matt understands.)

Michael’s watching Jeremy and Matt. Knows something is going on, but letting Jeremy call the shots because he trusts him.

“He did, did he?” Jeremy pulls his phone out as though he could have missed a call or text from Ryan, as if he would after what happened to them. Not a damn thing. “ _Huh_.”

Matt makes a face, and looks down at the cat. Scritches its ears - 

“Matt,” Jeremy says, because Matt has a cat. 

Matt’s been talking about getting one for ages now, but hasn’t had the time to do it. Busy guy, Matt. Lots of work on his plate.

And Ryan, okay. 

Fucking real life Disney princess when it comes to animals. Always stumbling over half-starved strays and nursing them back to health before finding them a forever home. Breaks up animal fighting rings with extreme prejudice as a _hobby_.

Had this alarming habit of befriending the local wildlife on missions back in the day. (Exotic animals some of their targets kept as pets and baffled look on his face when Jeremy would ask where the fuck he got the tiger that was following him around like a puppy that one time.)

Ryan being Up To Something, and him and Matt being squirrely as hell about it.

The theatrics, Matt being an annoying prick?

He’s stalling.

Buying time.

For _Ryan_.

Knew Jeremy would come here, and whatever Ryan’s been up to this last little while involves Geoff. (Or whoever took him.)

And Ryan knew Matt was looking into getting a cat, fuzzball to keep him company and pamper the hell out of. Would think to bribe him with one of the strays he picks up, hit him with an offer he couldn’t refuse to keep Jeremy from figuring out what he was doing just long enough to get away with it.

A stretch, maybe, but Jeremy’s known these to idiots long enough to know how they work.

“Matt,” Jeremy repeats, looking up to meet his eyes. “Where did you get the cat?”

========

They get to the warehouse too late to put the fuckers who grabbed Geoff down themselves, because of course they do.

Stay behind the police tape watching the spectacle, and close enough to overhear shit they shouldn’t have. (The LSPD is notorious for being lax about that though. Let a lot of things slip they shouldn’t, their own worst enemies that way.)

It’s Michael’s idea to check the area around the warehouse, ducking uniforms and a couple of K-9 units, and almost shoot Geoff when he surprises them. Drops down from a fire escape ladder right next to them.

Looks like shit, but more or less in one piece.

“Hey, assholes,” he says, tired smile tugging at his mouth and this fondness to his voice. “What brings you to the neighborhood?”

========

Michael yells.

A lot.

Because concern and worry and Geoff being the kind of asshole who’s more annoyed about his suit being ruined than the deathtraps the guys who grabbed him set up. 

Not a peep out of him regarding how he got out of there, but Jeremy has a good idea about that one. (About yea tall, dramatic fucker with a worrying love of masks.)

Geoff just gives them this cocky little grin, and tells them he has his ways, which.

Yeah, okay.

They leave Geoff in Jack’s hands while they go see what B-Team’s wants them to do about these assholes.

========

There’s a lot of shooting. Things on fire. Some screaming. Explosions.

(The usual.)

========

Things pick up for the crew after that. B-Team busy dealing with the stragglers involved with taking Geoff, and Gavin comes to town. (Jeremy still has no idea what to make of him, but Michael and the others like him so he can't be all that bad. (Probably.)

Ryan doesn’t answer Jeremy’s calls, but it’s not as worrying as it was the last time he tried to get in contact with him.

For one, the voicemail message on his second line is different. Ryan’s voice this time, not an automated recording, and something to it Jeremy knows well.

Up to something (trouble), but he’ll explain later and maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, don’t be (too) mad at him about it?

For another, Geoff strolls into a crew meeting with the Vagabond at his back and this smug grin on his face as a startled ripple moves through the room. 

Jeremy though. 

Jeremy looks at Geoff. 

At the mark peeking on his neck almost hidden by the collar of his shirt. 

At Ryan.

Big scary bastard in his Vagabond getup, but to the trained eye he looks sheepish. Embarrassed. (Guilty as hell.)

Doesn’t take a lot to put two and two together, what with the weird shit around Geoff the past little while and Ryan being Up To Something in the middle of his murder break. (A Ryan on a murder break turns into a bored Ryan fast, and a bored Ryan is a goddamned menace of a human being.)

“You son of a bitch!” Jeremy yells, jumping to his feet because that _son of a bitch!_

Geoff’s head snaps around, and Jeremy’s aware of the others at the table sitting up in alarm. Aware of Michael turning his attention to the Vagabond and how he might react. (Big scary bastard, Los Santos' very own bogeyman.)

Jeremy’s never had to worry about that though, not with his Battle Buddy.

No.

Jeremy is annoyed, because this – Geoff – is what Ryan has been up to this whole time.

Sneaking around behind Jeremy’s back to deprive him of the opportunity to give Ryan shit for his terrible life choices. (No offense to Geoff, just. Ryan’s terrible life choices.)

Ryan holds his hands up, backs away as Jeremy advances on him

“Okay,” Ryan says, trying to placate him. “So, I know how this looks - “

Oh, Jeremy bets he does.

“Yeah, buddy? Do you?” he challenges, watches the way Ryan winces. The way he backs up another step, two until there’s nowhere for him to go. “Interesting.”

Ryan stares down at him. Looks tall and intimidating – big, scary bastard – but Jeremy _knows_ Ryan.

He stares back, knows everyone’s watching them – can almost guarantee Gavin’s filming this, because Gavin – and then he snorts, because _Ryan._

“How’s your murder break going by the way?” he asks, light and airy and laughing at Ryan because the man is an idiot. Stupid-smart and real dumb about a lot of things. Shitty liar, or maybe Jeremy knows him too well. Whichever. “Do anything interesting?”

Ryan blinks, cocks his head.

“Not bad,” Ryan says. And then – because this is Ryan – he shoots a look at Geoff, and Jeremy can hear the smirk in his voice with his next answer. “And yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It takes a moment for the others to connect the dots, realize what Ryan means, and then it gets real loud real fast as the yelling starts.

========

“So,” Jeremy says, nudges Ryan with his elbow. “Geoff, huh?”

They’ve escaped to the balcony just off the penthouse’s living room. Have a nice view into the briefing room from here, can watch the chaos unfold while the others (continue to) yell at Geoff for so many reasons.

Ryan shrugs, crooked little smile on his face and this air of...contentedness to him Jeremy hasn’t seen in far too long.

It’s...nice to see. Reassuring, easing some of the worry for Ryan that’s always there these days, just another part of Jeremy’s life now.

And Geoff - 

Jeremy wants to think he’s someone Jeremy can trust with Ryan. 

“I guess,” he says, and slants a look at Jeremy as Michael's voice reaches them, louder than the rest. “And that’s the Michael I’ve heard so much about?”

Jeremy eyes Ryan because he knows that tone of voice. Too casual by far, and wonders if Ryan has the slightest idea what he’s about to get into here with this crew since it seems like he’s thinking about giving the Fakes a try.

He’s not just talking about Michael. He’s talking about this crew, the Fakes. (Everything.)

Fucking weirdos every one of them, and not shy about it. (They could do worse for themselves, is the thing. So much worse.)

Jeremy mimics Ryan with an easy shrug and wry smile.

“Yeah,” he says, warmth in his chest that feels a lot like happiness. “Yeah it is.”


End file.
